Dazed and Confused

I woke up bamboozled finding myself on the floor of what looked like an old bakery judging by the large sacks of flour and sugar that now coated my clothes and exposed arms. My head hurt and I sat up wondering how I got there. There was a strange feeling in my stomach seeing how archaic everything seemed to look. The room dimly lit by candlestick and a soft mild fire flickered somberly in the stone fireplace. I had absolutely no clue where I was and I immediately stood up not without the big rush to my head then steadied myself on the nearby wooden table.

“Hey get out of here you damn drunkard!” an angry cockney accented voice yells. Confused I turned around to face the rather large woman wearing incredibly outdated clothing that only seemed to have belonged to some sort of peasant.

“I‘m sorry,” I muttered to the woman as I tried to walk past her towards the front where I could escape her angry glares.

As I exited the building I took notice that everything seemed terribly wrong. The cobblestone streets that were damp with the recent rain and filth to the horses that pulled carriages of people dressed as if they just came out of a time machine. I was surrounded by the British accents and dreary weather that seemed to resemble London. Walking up to a man reading a newspaper I tried reading words from next to him without his acknowledgement. As I tried to read the date and year he folded the newspaper down exposing his face to me.

“What is it that you want?” he asks in a gruff British accent.

“I‘m sorry, I‘m just a little confused, what country are we in?” I reply looking back at his handsome face.

“London,” the man says simply.

“London? You‘re joking right?” I question as a wave of dizziness washed over me.

“American?” he asks.

“What makes you think that Sherlock,” I answer sardonically as my surroundings started to spin. Without warning my whole world went dark and I slipped into unconsciousness. Faint voices filled my mind and I struggled to open my heavy eyelids.

“She can‘t be older than 25 Holmes and these clothes she‘s wearing are completely bizarre,” one voice states.

“Well she‘s American perhaps Americans dress differently besides she knew my name,” the man from before responds.

“Lot‘s of people know your name, what does it matter if this woman knows it?” the other man argues. I opened my eyes bringing my hand up to shield from the excessive brightness off the sun that randomly shone through the window.

“Do you have a name?” the newest man inquires looking down at me.

“My name is Amber,” I say sitting up on the Victorian style couch and ran my hand over my face.

“Amber?” the same man says.

“Yes, you know like the fossilized tree sap? What date is it?” I counter somewhat tiredly.

“September 10th 1892,” the other man answers. I immediately looked at them like they were completely insane. Honestly I just thought I was in one of those themed parks like the Renaissance Fair.

“Honestly you don‘t have to take this job that seriously, I know for a fact these places pay for shit,” I respond. The man wearing the stethoscope’s eyes shot up in shock with my words.

“Peculiar language, what year do you think it is?” the man who seemed less shocked by my words inquires.

“Last I checked it was 2010, actually last I checked I was celebrating my birthday at a party but today I woke up on the floor of that bakery, I think someone put something in my drink,” I rant somewhat angrily.

“Where was this party?” he continues to ask.

“Arizona,” I reply trying to rack my mind over the events of the party but the whole thing was blurry leading me to believe that I was indeed drugged. Sure I had been drinking but when I drink I still remembered exactly what happened and often never did anything stupid because somehow I could retain my inhibitions while drinking alcohol.

“Peculiar indeed,” the man states looking at me like I were some sort of zoo animal.

“You know what would be peculiar? My foot in your ass if you don‘t stop saying peculiar and looking at me like that,” I retort narrowing my eyes at the man from the street. The other man with the stethoscope chuckled lightly.

“Dr. John Watson, this here is Sherlock Holmes,” he says introducing himself as he held out his hand as I shook it then he gestured to the other man that I had met in the street. I looked at the man confused, had he just said the other man was Sherlock Holmes? A bit more hesitantly I shook Sherlock’s hand; being sure to look into his deep brown eyes to see if they held any lies. Unfortunately for me I didn’t even see any flicker of deception which worried me a bit.

“You knew my name beforehand,” Sherlock states looking at me intensely not letting my hand go as he gave it a squeeze.

“It was just an expression, I didn‘t actually know who you were,” I state as I squeezed his hand back with a stern force. He did not let go of my hand and seemed to have been in deep thought squeezing my hand with just as much force.

“Holmes,” Watson says making Holmes let go of my hand and break out of his daze.

“Any clinically insane people escape the asylum recently?” Holmes questions Watson.

“No Holmes I‘m sure it would have been in the papers, perhaps she bumped her head,” Watson suggests.

“I didn‘t bump my head, I was drugged, which I am particularly unhappy about considering now I have no recollection of what happened at my own birthday party and am apparently in 1892 London which is absolutely absurd not mention impossible,” I say frustrated.

“Is there any way you could prove you are from the time you say you are?” Holmes inquires. I thought it over and remembered I had my ID along with a few dollars in American money in my back pocket of my jeans.

“Hold on,” I reply standing up and getting my ID out of my pocket then handed it over to Holmes, “here.”

“Birth Date: September 9th 1989 Address: 2424 W. Northern Avenue Phoenix, AZ,” he read out loud.

“What exactly is this printed on?” Watson asks looking at the ID Holmes had handed over so that Holmes could look at the money.

“Plastic I would assume,” I reply.

“So what do you remember from the night before?” Holmes questions.

“I remember going to the party with a few of my friends in town, I‘m not particularly a party person but it was my birthday so I agreed, there was some drinking and an array of people,” I say.

“Anyone suspicious looking?” Watson asks. I thought over his words trying to remember the night then it came to me.

“There was a man,” I begin to say furrowing my eyebrows to think harder, “I remember he was wearing a suit very much like you are wearing, he spoke to me briefly asking for the date and time.”

“And his facial features?” Watson inquires.

“Somewhat high forehead, angular features, dark blue eyes, light brown hair, he claimed to be a Professor of some sorts,” I reply as things started to come to me.

“His name?” Holmes demands.

“I don‘t recall him giving me a name, he did have monogram cuff links with the letter ‘’M’ but that can‘t be any help,” I answer.

“I‘ll take the case,” he states.

“Holmes you don‘t know its Moriarty,” Watson says giving his colleague a look.

“You never know,” Holmes replies.

“Mind explaining this to me?” I retort.

“It’s over your head,” Holmes states condescendingly.

“Is that so? How exactly can you be sure if it’s over my head when yours is right up your own ass?” I counter standing up annoyed with this man who seemed to think everyone but himself was a dimwitted slag.

“You‘ll have to excuse Holmes he‘s not exactly the most gentlemanly of men,” Watson states as he put a reassuring hand on my shoulder to calm my anger.

“John what is taking you so long?” a woman inquires walking into the room. I looked to see a pretty woman standing now looking at me between curious and furious.

“Mary,” Watson says immediately taking his hand off my shoulder and gave a weak smile.

“Who is this?” she questions looking me up and down.

“I‘m Amber, you must be Mary, John has spoken so highly of you, you truly are as beautiful as he said,” I say with a kind polite smile as I walked over and shook her hand.

“I wish I could say the same for you, how exactly do you know John?” Mary replies eying me suspiciously.

“Of course you hadn‘t heard of me, you see I had only just found out my relations to John, I came from America after finding out I had a living breathing long lost cousin,” I respond.

“Well isn‘t that the most intriguing thing, but what happened to your clothes dear?” Mary questions buying my whole lie and now was concerned with my outwardly appearance.

“The journey was long and some thieves stole all my things, this is all I could find,” I counter gesturing to my obviously out of place cowboy boots and baggy dirty men’s button down shirt.

“That sounds awful! You must be traumatized,” she says.

“It’s alright I‘m alive in one piece,” I reassure with a smile.

“Mary I‘ll be right with you, I want to be sure Amber gets settled down in my old room,” Watson says with a smile as he placed his hand at the small of her back leading her towards the exit.

“Are you sure you want to leave her with Holmes?” I heard Mary ask in a hushed tone.

“I have a feeling she could handle him quite easily,” Watson says with a hint of humor to his tone of voice. Holmes stared at me whilst Watson took a few moments to escort Mary out. Once back into the room Watson gave me an incredulous look.

“You should thank me, if I hadn’t said I was a long lost relative she‘d have been less than thrilled with what you people call improper behavior, obviously you don‘t have a great track record so why ruin your good streak with someone like me?” I say before he could question my actions.

“Observant,” Holmes comments.

“You seem to think of that too easily,” Watson counters.

“I‘m used to the accusations, a majority of my good friends are men so in turn it is assumed I‘m up to no good with them according to their significant others,” I reply with a shrug.

“Why couldn‘t you have said you were Holmes‘ long lost relatives?” he asks with a sigh.

“Then there still be no issues with her thinking something would happen between us, granted by her opinion of Holmes‘ it’d be far worse if I claimed to be related to him,” I state.

“Excellent point, well Mary insists you go out for dinner tonight but seeing as that you have nothing to wear perhaps Holmes and Mrs. Hudson you could go with her to get a dress of some sorts,” Watson says looking at Holmes pleadingly.

“I don‘t think that‘s such a good idea,” I say biting my bottom lip.

“You got yourself into this, besides you stick out like a sore thumb dressed like that,” he argues.

“We‘ll see if we can make her proper,” Holmes says looking over me with a hint of uncertainty.

“Then it’s settled, I shall see you two tonight,” Watson says putting on his hat and left out the door.

“Keep the future nonsense to yourself while around Mrs. Hudson,” Holmes warns.

“Lovely,” I mutter.

This was going to be blast…..